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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558568">miasma and misunderstandings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_goes_the_canon/pseuds/boom_goes_the_canon'>boom_goes_the_canon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Era, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pontmercying, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:08:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_goes_the_canon/pseuds/boom_goes_the_canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“…I could fight the miasma for you?” Marius offers finally, at a complete loss.</p><p>Courfeyrac laughs, and the laugh turns into a cough, and he ends up hunched over and miserable as Marius makes him swallow water. “That,” Courfeyrac says, once he’s recovered, “will not be necessary.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Courfeyrac/Marius Pontmercy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>miasma and misunderstandings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…I could fight the miasma for you?” Marius offers finally, at a complete loss.</p><p>Courfeyrac laughs, and the laugh turns into a cough, and he ends up hunched over and miserable as Marius makes him swallow water. “That,” Courfeyrac says, once he’s recovered, “will not be necessary.”</p><p>“But it’s the cause of all your troubles!”</p><p>“Marius, you will not fight the wind,” Courfeyrac says, looking far too sure of himself. Marius <em>could</em> fight the wind if he wanted to, and he wanted to, especially if it was going to leave Courfeyrac in such a state.</p><p>Marius is unused to seeing anyone ill, let alone Courfeyrac, ordinarily the picture of vivacity and happiness. None of the medical students seemed unduly concerned, with Joly only advising the realignment of his bed with the poles and Combeferre prescribing tea with honey. Well, Courfeyrac had done all those things, and so far, the only things they had to show for it was Marius’ new bruises from tripping over the bed, and Combeferre’s express orders that he stay out of Courfeyrac’s room.</p><p>“Nonsense,” Courfeyrac had said. “Marius can stay in my room and I, of course, will stay in the same room. It is the most logical course of action.”</p><p>“If you insist,” Combeferre had said, and he had glared at Marius until Marius promised on his mother’s grave that he would stay out of Courfeyrac’s room until the cough was gone.</p><p>In retaliation, Courfeyrac had moved his bedding and pillows to the couch in the living room, and there he remained, coughing every few sentences and looking miserable about it when Marius pointed it out.</p><p>“Marius,” Courfeyrac says, and Marius stirs from his memories. “Did you hear what I said?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Courfeyrac sighs, a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t tired of Marius yet, or his company. “I said,” he says, patiently, with only a small coughing fit. “You will have to fill in for me at the next meeting, for you know Enjolras would be disappointed without his Polytechnique contact—”</p><p>“—but I know no one at the Polytechnique!” Marius protests.</p><p>“They are an amiable bunch, heads already full of ideas and hearts serving the Republic. The main thing to do is be friends with them, and everything will turn out all right.”</p><p>“I do not know how to befriend people!”</p><p>“Well,” Courfeyrac starts, a frown furrowing his brow. “It’s not <em>hard</em>.”</p><p>“For you!” Marius cries, throwing his arms up in the air. “It’s never hard for you.”</p><p>Courfeyrac’s eyes are entirely too serious when he nods and apologizes, and not for the first time today, Marius wishes Courfeyrac wasn’t sick, just so he could hug him and take that expression off his face. As it is now, he can only squawk something ineffective and make Courfeyrac more tea. (Courfeyrac is sick of tea, Marius knows, but he drinks it with a smile whenever Marius gives it to him, and that has to mean <em>something</em>. If only Marius knew what it was.)</p><p>“So,” Marius tries again. “I have to go to the Polytechnique.”</p><p>“Ask for Monsieur Beauchamp.”</p><p>Marius nods, looking wildly around for a pen to write with. Failing that, he might just use some strategically ripped threads in his coat.</p><p>“Oh,” Courfeyrac says, clearing his throat. “And you will have to settle my debts with the landlord.”</p><p>Marius makes an unholy sound. “But he hates me,” he says.</p><p>“He hates coughing too, and I don’t think he’ll take very well to catching something, don’t you think?” Courfeyrac motions to himself, and his next coughing fit leaves him gasping, and Marius has a renewed urge to fight whatever miasma brought this upon his friend.</p><p>“Very well,” Marius says with a shudder. The things he does for Courfeyrac, really. “Your billfold—”</p><p>“—on the table, and if you’d pick yourself up dinner, I’d appreciate it.” He gives Marius a disapproving look, up and down, and Marius feels sliced open. “No roommate of mine is going to waste away for want of a good meal. You look like a skeleton dressed in an old coat.”</p><p>Marius checks the mirror. He <em>doesn’t</em> look like a skeleton. “I do not look like a skeleton,” he announces.</p><p>“A coatrack then. One with a single very sad coat to his name.”</p><p>Marius frowns, expecting Courfeyrac to laugh, or ruffle his hair into something more becoming, but Courfeyrac just doubles over and starts coughing. Marius snatches the billfold and flees.</p><p>He bursts into the backroom of the Musain, gasping. Enjolras and Combeferre stare at him, and Grantaire raises his glass from the corner.</p><p>“Courfeyrac is dying,” Marius announces, startling Enjolras out of his chair.</p><p>Combeferre gives his most skeptical eyebrow raise, and Marius quails. “Courfeyrac has a <em>cough</em>,” Combeferre says, and Enjolras visibly relaxes.</p><p>“A bad one,” Marius says, not to be outdone.</p><p>“Well, there’s not much to be done about it,” Combeferre says. “Did you keep out of his room?”</p><p>“Um, ah, well, you see—“</p><p>“—you didn’t, did you?” Combeferre looks disappointed, and Marius is tempted to throw himself at the floor and beg forgiveness.</p><p>“He was insistent!”</p><p>“He always is. Did he send you for anything?”</p><p>“He said I was to talk at the Polytechnique, and that I needed to pay some bills…” Marius searches for the billfold to hold up and underscore his point. “He was very encouraging.”</p><p>Enjolras seems to relax at those words. “We have utmost confidence in your abilities. You will surely succeed in your endeavour,” he says, his voice ringing with intensity and conviction. He clasps Marius’ shoulder and nods before turning back to his lunch.</p><p>Marius won’t lie—it’s quite inspiring. He straightens up, brushes his coat down, and makes sure his hat is perched properly on his head. Combeferre’s judging eye looks slightly less critical. Marius counts that as a success.</p><p>“Right,” Marius says. “I should be going then.”</p><p>“Good luck,” Combeferre says on his way out.</p><p>Marius only gets lost twice on his way to the Polytechnique, and he doesn’t encounter his cousin even once, so Combeferre’s words must have worked wonders.</p><p>The students, when he arrives, are in a flurry of discussion, and they glare at him when he interrupts.</p><p>“What do you want?” one of them says, and Marius opens his mouth.</p><p>He doesn’t know, exactly, what he talks about. He’s vaguely aware than he started the speech talking about Napoleon, but he successfully veers away from that particular conversation topic. He talks about the virtues of the republic, borrowing as much from Courfeyrac as he can manage. When he finishes, he gasps for breath, and the students laugh.</p><p>“Let’s buy the kid a drink,” one says, slapping him on the back. Perhaps he is Monsieur Beauchamp, only Marius never asked. “New recruits!”</p><p>The other students cheer, and start to shepherd Marius in the direction of the nearest wine-shop. Marius accidentally knocks off someone’s hat, and his knees bend in fantastical directions as they cluster around him. They seem quite amiable, as Courfeyrac had said, and they talk of mistresses and professors just like Les Amis.</p><p>Soon enough, they are in the wine-shop, and Marius works up the courage to order a few oysters and a bottle of wine along with the others. They ply Marius with encouraging looks and glasses of better and better wine. Marius heeds Courfeyrac’s words and accepts.</p><p>“So, Marius,” the back-slapper says. “Any scandalous affairs?”</p><p>“Um, does Courfeyrac count?”</p><p>At that, everyone bursts out laughing, so Marius takes the cue and laughs too. It sounds very awkward to his ears, but Courfeyrac has assured him that the awkwardness adds to his natural charm, so maybe it’s all right.</p><p>“Any affair of Courfeyrac’s is scandalous in its very nature,” says the man whose hat Marius knocked off. He winks. “Pretty soon there won’t be enough scandal to go around.”</p><p>Marius hurries to nod. “He does have a lot of friends.”</p><p>“Oh, is <em>that</em> what he’s calling them now?” The man laughs. “Back when we were together, he just called me a lover.”</p><p>Distress and anger suddenly swirls in Marius’ gut, and he feels the overwhelming urge to punch the man. How dare he sit there, with his hat tipped jauntily back, and drag Courfeyrac’s name through the mud? Surely, Courfeyrac had better taste than this outrageously jealous man, who spoke so casually of their relationship.</p><p>He slams his money down on the table, vaguely aware that his head feels light and his fists are tingling. “Excuse me, monsieurs,” he says, jams his hat on his head, and stalks off.</p><p>He eventually does find his way back home, his thoughts still awhirl. He throws money at the displeased landlord, mutters something about the change, and runs. He will be in so much trouble later, but he cannot find it in himself to care. His entire world is spinning.</p><p>He bangs on their door before discovering that it is, in fact, open, and when he does open it, he heads straight for Courfeyrac’s room.</p><p>“Welcome home!” Courfeyrac says, and he rises from his bed. He is wearing nothing but a shirt. His smile is decidedly confused. “Oh, my dear Marius, are you drunk?”</p><p>“How dare you take on that stupid hat man as a lover.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Marius jabs a finger in Courfeyrac’s face and misses, ending up poking at his cravat. It’s a very soft cravat. “The man with a stupid hat. I don’t like him. How dare you like him.”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait.” Courfeyrac rubs his forehead, taking deep breaths. “Which man with a stupid hat?”</p><p>“I don’t know!” Marius crosses his arms. “But I am very upset.”</p><p>“Evidently. Marius, are you quite sure you’re all right?”</p><p>“No! I am not all right.” He pauses at Courfeyrac’s wince, tries to lower his voice. “Are you all right?”</p><p>“Yes, actually. Combeferre dropped by with some medicine and said he’d bring more later.” Courfeyrac shrugs, and the room shrugs with him, and suddenly, Marius is on the floor. Courfeyrac is cradling his head, legs folded elegantly beneath him.</p><p>Marius swallows, feels his throat work. “I am very angry at you,” he whispers. “Very angry.”</p><p>“I see,” Courfeyrac says, and he brushes a curl from Marius’ face, and Marius shudders. “Can I induce you to forgive me, perhaps?” His grin is wicked, and he is bending down, ever so slowly.</p><p>Too slowly. Marius grabs his face and tugs him down, damn the cough and the miasma and everything on this earth.</p><p>Their lips have barely touched when the door opens. Courfeyrac scrambles up immediately, hell-bent on launching himself into the bed. Marius is left dazed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>Combeferre’s face swims into his vision, looking disappointed as always. “I told you to stay out of his room.”</p>
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